


Hang Me, Oh Hang Me

by casstayinmyass



Category: Inside Llewyn Davis (2013)
Genre: Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Homeless Character, Late Night Visit, Llewyn Is A Cutie When He Sleeps, One Night Stands, Pining Reader, Reader-Insert, Romantic Friendship, Slow Sex, Smoking, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:59:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6255580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A late night knock at your door for a place to stay turns into something a little more as you realize the past has a habit of repeating itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hang Me, Oh Hang Me

Your eyes drift open as you wake up, reaching for your bedside lamp. A frown forms, your hand rubbing through your messy hair; _was that a knock at your door?_

You pad out of your creaky bed, feet curling against the cold panels of your wooden floor. Who could possibly be knocking at your door at this time?

You yawn as you open it. 

“Hey, it's me.”

Your frown deepens. “Llewyn? What’re you doing here?”

The man on the doorstep of your apartment shrugs, looking down at his feet. “I was just… passin’ through, and… I remembered that you lived here, and…”

“How'd you get into the building?"

"A nice old lady was going out to take her dog for a walk, and she held the door for me."

You raise an eyebrow. "It’s just gone midnight,” you mumble, checking the time on your stove.

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? Is it really that late? Y’know me, I just thought dropping by for a visit was in order, so-“

“We haven’t seen each other in months.”

“That long? Work’s been so busy, I’ve got so many shows-“

“You need the couch, don’t you?”

There was a pause, and Llewyn’s shoulders sag as he realizes there’s no point in bullshitting you.

“Yeah.”

You nod, yawning again, and hold the door open. He coughs into his threadbare glove-covered fist, and walks in underneath your arm.

You don’t say anything as you put on a pot of tea. You know Llewyn hates tea, but you’re making it anyway, since he looks cold as all hell and he could really use a cup. He sets down his guitar case, and sits on a chair.

“I appreciate it,” he mutters, and you nod.

“I know. So, lots of shows, huh?” you tease, and he looks down.

“Yeah, um… not so much.”

“How’s your music really going?” you ask softly.

“It’s going,” he replies, biting his lip. You look over, and fully study his face. He has a beard now. It looks good on him.

“You don’t have to make-“ he starts, gesturing to the teapot, and you hold up a hand.

“Drink the damn tea, Llewyn, you look like a snowman.”

He nods, and you pour a mug, handing it to him.

You stare at each other for a few moments, then turn away. “Okay, well… I’m going back to bed. Cereal’s in the cupboard, milk’s in the fridge… you know where the blankets are.”

He nods again, and takes a deep breath, shivering a little as the mug of tea warms his hands. You turn back to him before walking back to your room. “How long’s it been since you got a good, warm night’s sleep, huh?”

He smirks a little. “About two weeks.”

“Been rough?”

“Yeah- I'm real fuckin' tired.” He sure _looked_ tired. 

“Hmm. Goodnight.”

You turn away again, and open the door to your room, getting into bed and shutting off the light.

You and Llewyn were… you didn’t know what you two were. He used to come in sometimes, on lonely nights, and you would sleep together. It gave both of you some sort of release, and through those nights, you had gotten to know more than just each other’s bodies. Since then, you had told him you didn’t want to do it anymore- he hadn’t wanted to bother you until tonight, and the last time he had come around was probably before news of Mike's suicide had reached you... you decided it was best not to bring him up, obviously.

You turn over in your bed, sighing out of your nose. You missed him. That was the simple truth. Llewyn was… no strings attached. He was a haven, he was someone to take care of, he was… someone you just _had_ to take in your arms.

You force yourself to go to sleep, squeezing your eyes shut after you finally hear the light click out in the living room. He’d be gone in the morning. He’d be gone.

-0-0-0-

You open your eyes. 3:14 AM.

Another yawn plagues you at the late (or early) hour, and you suddenly become hyperaware that there’s someone else in your apartment for the night. You bite your lip, fighting the urge to get up….

But you just can’t help it.

You push the covers off of yourself, leave your room, and look around the corner of the hallway, staring over at Llewyn, dressed down to his tight white t-shirt that he favors, one arm above his head of dark, curly hair and one hanging off the couch. His mouth is open, and his chest is rising and falling steadily.

You swallow, and walk over beside him, dropping down to his level. You can’t stop yourself as you place your hands on his hard chest, trailing them slowly down the muscle of his torso. His eyelids flutter a little, then they open. It takes a moment for the singer to process what’s going on and where he is, but when he does, his eyelids droop even more so than usual, long lashes almost touching his olive-toned cheeks. He takes your wrists gently, pulling you closer to him, and you press your lips down to his, relishing in the sweet, slow kisses he gives you. 

You inhale as he puts two hands behind you and lifts you onto the couch, rolling you on top of him. The hands run down your back, under your shirt; then he takes your top off over your head, exposing your breasts in the cool night air. He blinks languidly, admiring you, then brings his hands to the front of your body, taking his time to cup them and harden your nipples. Soon, you begin to roll your hips down into his lap, where you can feel the outline of his cock hardening every time you come in contact with it.

You kiss him again, and his hands fall to your hips, then down to your panties, where he brushes them aside and lightly massages you with his fingertips. You bite your lip, and reach your hand down into his pants, pulling out his cock and giving it a few strokes. You brush your fingers against his balls as well, and he moans low in his throat; you press kisses down his chest, running your thumb over the slit and making him squeeze your hips harder.

“I don’t,” he breathes in a quiet whisper, a pained expression overtaking his face, “I don’t have any condoms… I can pull out, if you want…”

You hold a finger up, and bend back to a cabinet by the couch, rooting around and finding a small packet. He breathes out, and you open it, rolling it onto his thick shaft.

“I want you to come inside of me tonight,” you whisper into his neck, and he lets out a little noise of appreciation, hands clutching onto your naked back as if to keep you against him forever.

You concentrate on keeping yourself steady as you lift up, spreading your legs and taking him in. You let out a soft gasp, and he holds you steady, easing all the way in. His cock filling you to the hilt gives you a warm, full feeling, and you try to get him deeper, grinding down into him. He pushes up, and you moan, clenching around him.

He starts a rhythm, thrusting in and out of you as you arch your back and attempt to go with it. Every little thrust brings you closer and closer, his pelvis gyrating perfectly against your clit every time he rolls up.

“Shit,” he pants, clenching his jaw, “You look so good riding me…”

You feel him throb inside of you, and you chase your release, kissing him again and again as he cants his hips up.

“It’s been so long,” he mutters apologetically, and that’s his way of telling you he’s going to come soon. You bring one hand down your stomach and begin touching yourself, your mouth opening in a groan as he continues to fill you. The buildup is wonderful, and watching the man under you makes you incredibly hot, hot under every touch he applies to your sensitive body.

Suddenly, his hands return to your back, and he rolls you two over so that he’s on top- miraculously, you or both of you don’t fall off the couch.

He looks down at you, kissing your neck, kissing along your breasts and making you shiver, then he thrusts back into you with slow, deep, purposeful movements. You feel your body begin to tingle, and you wrap your legs around his back, your feet slipping down to his ass as his eyes begin to roll back.

“You can come, Llewyn,” you whisper, brushing an errant curl out of his face, and he chokes a little, his hips stuttering as he bottoms out, coming inside of the condom in you with a beautiful expression. The fast, desperate thrusting as his orgasm washes through him brings you to climax as well, and you let out a broken cry, burying your face in his neck.

 He finally opens his eyes when both of you are finished, and slides down beside you on the couch; you pull the blanket over both of you, and snuggle into his arms for what remains of the night.

-0-0-0-

You open your eyes to your bright living room, sun streaming in through the windows. For a second, you wonder how tired you could have been last night to pass out on your couch; then you remember as you see the guitar case- Llewyn.

You sit up, and see him over at the other end of the couch by the open window, smoking a cigarette. He sees that you’re awake, and you sit up even more, rubbing your eyes and admiring how his lips curl around the smoke as he blows it out the window.

“What time is it?” you eventually ask, for lack of something better to say.

“Eight o’clock,” Llewyn mumbles around the cigarette, taking one last drag before dropping it out. You stretch, and hold the blanket to your bare chest, even though he’s seen more of you than anyone has.

“I’d better get going,” he sighs, licking over his lips, “I’ve got to catch a ride to Chicago today to meet with a guy… a record guy.” He gets up, starting to layer on his clothes.

You nod, and keep the blanket wrapped around you as you get up as well, going over to pour some of the extra tea left from last night and put it in the microwave for yourself.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and you’re not sure if he’s talking about the stay or the sex. You assume both, and smile a little.

“It’s okay.”

He puts on his gloves, brushes his fingers through his hair by way of combing the unruly mess, and heads over to the door in one stride. He gives you one last smile before opening the opening it, and you go over.

“See you sometime,” you whisper, and he puts his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. Then he pulls away, and walks out. You hold the door open as you watch him lumber down the hallway.

“Llewyn!” you call, and he turns.

“If you ever need a place- ever- you come here, okay?” you ask, and he nods, turning back and turning down the stairs. You suck in a breath, and shut your door.

Watching him leave was always the hard part.


End file.
